Weaver must’ve killed him. Nothing else makes any sense. The man’s a coward, and a murdering coward.

  Filled with anger, he pulled Padre’s body onto his shoulder to take it off the battlefield. Staggering with the weight, he grabbed the M249 and started walking back to find a place he could leave him. A few bullets hissed past him, and in his fury he ignored them.

  He lowered the body to the ground and was about to go forward again to join Sergeant Dan and the others when he almost jumped out of his skin. Corporal Mulligan was nearby, kneeling on the ground, and he looked puzzled.

  "What is it? Are you hit?”

  He shook his head. "No, I’m not hit. I believe they’ve buried an IED here, but I think there’s more than one. The command wires route in two directions. It’s like they planted two IEDS to ambush us, and I need to disarm them. I’m trying to disconnect this one first.

  Mulligan worked slowly, clearing the ground around the suspect site. He found a wooden case buried inches beneath the surface and lifted it out.

  "C4, enough to take out a platoon."

  He placed it to one side, inspected the wires, and grimaced. "If I cut these, it could trip the other mine. And if they planted it where I think, some of our men will die."

  "Do what you have to. I'll stay here and cover you."

  “What about the advance?”

  “I can see the enemy positions from here, and disarming that IED takes priority, before it kills us all.”

  For the first time Eddie saw beads of sweat on his face. Clearing enemy IEDs was a high stress business, and he didn't envy him his work. For the first time, Mulligan noticed the body.

  "Is that Padre?"

  “Yeah, he’s dead. I’ll be taking his body back when we’re done here."

  "Poor bastard, you’d think after that bullet hit his Bible he’d be indestructible. I guess some ISIS sniper got lucky."

  "Someone got lucky," he said, feeling bitter.

  A storm of gunfire erupted around them, and he put his head out into the open. Dan’s men were running forward, and he turned to Mulligan. “I was wrong. I need to go forward. I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

  He raced to join Dan’s attack. When he caught up with them, a group of men were busy loading fresh rockets into RPG-7s. Eddie ran to their flank, finger curled around the trigger, and he emptied a belt at the missile shooters and their loaders. When he took his finger off the trigger, he’d killed them all, and all that remained were bodies.

  Dan rushed up and dropped down next to him. “There’ll be more of them up ahead, and we need to flush them out. We’re going forward again. Cover us.”

  “There’s a problem.” He explained about the IED, “That charge could blow any time, and we’re not sure exactly where it is.”

  “Is Mulligan dealing with it?”

  “It’s a tough one, but he’s doing his best.”

  “We can’t stop the attack. We need to make sure we got all the missile shooters. We’ll need every man we have, so we’ll go back and round up any stragglers.”

  “I’ll bring Padre’s body.”

  They made it back to the vehicles, and Eddie ran into a furious Master Sergeant Weaver. "Hawkins, you moron, what the hell do you think you’re doing back here?"

  He snapped a retort. "Bringing back the body of a good man and killing the enemy. It’s better than murdering our own men."

  His eyes narrowed as he recognized Padre’s body. "You brought him back?"

  "I’m not leaving him out there for ISIS to mutilate."

  He tapped his chest and glared. "I decide what happens around here, not you, boy." He saw the other soldiers watching him; “We’ll talk about this later. I decided to pull back."

  "Hold it." Sergeant Dan Jones looked weary. “We couldn’t make it any further. There’re too many of them. If we’re going to destroy get them we need every man. That means you and your men, Sergeant Weaver.”

  “We’re pulling back. That’s an order.”

  Dan stood in front of the brutal NCO. "We have a chain of command, and it starts with Captain Rogers. His orders are to destroy their position and kill the missile shooters, not retreat when the shooting starts.”

  Weaver bared his lips in a snarl. "Rogers isn't here, and I'm telling you we're pulling out. Get the men into the jeeps."

  Dan didn’t move, and he glanced at Eddie. "What happened to Padre?"

  "It's complicated, Sarge.”

  “War is complicated. Tell me what happened."

  “Someone put a bullet in his head.” Eddie glanced at Weaver and back at Padre’s body. Dan looked from one to the other, and he began to get the picture. He knelt to look at the body, and he looked at Weaver. "How come he's got powder burns where the bullet entered?"

  Weaver shrugged. "Maybe the shooter was standing right next to him and pressed the gun to his head."

  Eddie stared at him. "There weren’t any hostiles that close. There was just you.”

  The brutal face scowled at him. "You’re talking crap, so shut your mouth. We’re pulling out.”

  No one moved. Dan took in the medical pack and the armband Weaver had pulled on. "What’re you doing with those?"

  "If our men need help, I'll use the medical pack to treat them."

  "And the armband? Do you need that to treat them as well?"

  "I don't know what you're suggesting, Sergeant Jones, but I’d advise you to forget it. I just gave an order. Get in the vehicles. We’re leaving."

  They stared at each other for long moments. A few meters away, Corporal Mulligan was carefully digging and probing at a new site. Eddie looked at him and didn't like what he saw. Mulligan's face was pale, and he strolled over to him.

  "What's up?"

  “It’s another IED." He pointed to another wooden crate of explosives he’d exposed in the earth, “They’re buried deep, and it looks like they’re booby-trapped. I’m not sure how to disarm this thing."

  “Is there an alternative?"

  A shrug. "Standard operating practice is to get everyone out of the area and detonate it. There's no other way I can guarantee making it safe."

  "We can't clear the area. This is a combat zone."

  Sergeant Jones glanced down at the huge bomb. "If you can't disarm it, and we can't get the vehicles out without risking blowing ourselves up, there's only one option left.” He stared at Sergeant Weaver. “We follow orders and renew the attack.”

  He heard him talking and shouted over, "No way. We’ll have to leave the jeeps and wait for the company to pick us up. They can bring in a specialist bomb disposal team.”

  He shook his head. "Like I said, the company commander gave us an order. Attack the enemy and destroy their missiles. It’s time we went to work."

  Weaver looked at him in horror, and for the first time he wavered. “They’ll slaughter us if we try another attack."

  “If we stay here they could slaughter us when the explosives detonate,” Mulligan said, “There may be a remote detonator somewhere. It could be wired or wireless, but either way, this thing is liable to explode at any moment.”

  “We attack.” Sergeant Jones looked at the men. “We’re going in with every man, and this time we’re going all the way. Eddie, we need your machine gun to cover us on the flank. The rest of you men, follow me!”

  A burst of machine gun fire ripped overhead, and Mulligan held up his hand for them to wait while he peered into the distance.

  “There’s a bunch of men crouched around an old-fashioned detonator. One of em’s trying to connect some wires. If it’s the wires that connect to this bomb, we're done. And if they have a backup remote detonator, God help us all.”

  "We go now. Corporal Mulligan, if you’ve done all you can here, go with Eddie, head straight for that detonator, and put it out of action.” He looked around, “Has anyone seen Sergeant Weaver?”

  No one replied. “Okay, we’ll go without him, and we’re gonna shove their missiles down their throats. Now!"

  Men raced forward, keeping their heads low to avoid the incoming fire. Eddie headed for the flank to give them covering fire and circling toward the detonator. Mulligan stayed with him. They were advancing until a machine gun opened up, forcing them to scatter. Eddie stopped, aimed, and emptied a two hundred-round belt, and the gun went silent.

  They jumped up and ran forward again. Another machine gun opened fire, and bullets zinged all around them. By some miracle they made it into cover unscathed and perched on top of a heap of stones that had once been a substantial house. It was several meters above ground level. It gave then a commanding view of the enemy, especially where Mulligan had seen the man connecting the detonator. He propped the bipod on a flat piece of stone, and the combat engineer flung himself down beside him.

  “Grab a spare ammunition belt, and hold it ready. As soon as I’m out, slam it in."

  Eddie spotted movement in the distance. Another turbaned insurgent was creeping toward the detonator. He aimed and fired, and the man spun to the ground.

  Mulligan looked at him in awe. "I wish I could shoot like that."

  "You play Call of Duty?"

  "Sure I do."

  "Are you any good?"

  A shrug. "I've had some high scores, but the real thing is different.”

  “I had the same problem when I first came out here." He explained how he'd been an ace gamer back home, but when it came to actual combat, he couldn't hit one side of a barn if he was inside it.

  "How did you sort it?"

  He grinned. "When we’re in action, I think like I'm playing a game." He saw the other man's puzzled expression and hurried to explain, "I'm not saying killing men is a game, although I can think of one or two I'd like to kill."

  “Sergeant Weaver," Mulligan murmured.

  "Yeah, best not go there. But there's plenty of ragheads with so much blood on their hands they bathe in it. Men like that don't deserve to live. They shouldn't be breathing the same air as civilized folks."

  He stopped speaking as several turbaned heads appeared. They'd seen Dan’s men moving toward them, and they opened fire. Eddie put the butt of the M249 to his shoulder and took aim. He was going for the high score. ISIS just about managed the low score. Robed figures tumbled to the ground, throwing up their hands and screaming as his bullets chewed into them. The belt emptied, and Mulligan was ready, slamming in the next box magazine. He hosed them down, killing anyone who dared to show their face. He fired repeatedly, and it seemed impossible for anyone to have survived. Yet in spite of the odds, the threat wasn’t over.

  Mulligan pointed. "Over there, Eddie.” An insurgent had grabbed the detonator and disappeared behind cover, along with several other insurgents, “They’ll be aiming to fix it and detonate the explosives close to the vehicles.”

  "You're sure none of our people are back there?"

  He shook his head. "They’re with Sergeant Jones in the attack."

  He nodded. "Which means they won't be blown to pieces. Do you see them now?"

  “Nope, they just vanished.”

  Chapter Five

  He surveyed the area, using the eye for ground he’d acquired over the years, gaming on the Xbox, Call of Duty, and practicing his second love, snapping images with his camera. He quartered every inch of ground and stopped. It was like a tiny porthole. Heavy stones had piled up in a heap to leave a gap. It was tiny, a few inches across, and three inches high, like a letterbox. He sighted along the barrel of the machine gun.

  "You see it?"

  Mulligan stared for several seconds and shook his head. "I don't see anything. Eddie, you have eyes like a hawk."

  "I wish. There’s enough men hiding back there to inflict heavy casualties on Dan’s attack, and if they fix that detonator, you know what happens next. Give me a second."

  He focused on that tiny space, and the M249 wasn't a sniper weapon. Yet what this situation needed was precision. He watched and waited. The Sergeant’s men were getting closer, and he pictured hostiles leaping up from cover to pour fire down on them to tear them to pieces. He had to stop them, and stop that detonator exploding.

  He focused on the tiny target, caressed the trigger, and saw the movement again in the gap. Gently, he squeezed the trigger. The bullet cracked out of the muzzle and sped to the target. The turban erupted into a mass of blood and brain matter as the target was thrown back. Insurgents rose up from behind cover, and now they were where he could see them. He saw Sergeant Jones leap to his feet, waving the men on. Shouting at them to charge the enemy.

  But he had a better way, and once again, he cupped his hands to his mouth, "Hit the deck. It’s Hawkins. I’ve got it.”

  The insurgents assumed they were ducking the fight. Big mistake. They charged the soldiers, AK-47 assault rifles firing wildly. He targeted the man who appeared to be the leader, taking him down with a long burst, and keeping his finger on the trigger. A barrage of 5.56mm rounds tore into the mass of charging ISIS fighters, and Mulligan was ready with a new box magazine. Another two hundred bullets chewed into the enemy. Most went down, and Sergeant Jones shouted, "Eddie, we'll do the rest! Hit them now!”

  The demoralized ISIS fighters began to fall back. American bullets tossed them to the ground like discarded wrappers. Save for two men who ran away like hares, twisting through the broken buildings until they were out of sight, they all died. Except for one.

  Eddie saw him then, a man crawling toward the primitive detonator. The guy he'd killed first had almost completed the task, everything but the last part, pushing down the plunger. The insurgent was about to finish the task.

  Sergeant jones saw him at the same time.

  "Freeze! Touch that detonator, and you're a dead man."

  He stopped moving and stared at the Sergeant, looking at him, and then at the detonator. Working out if he could make it, or should he drop his hands in surrender and live to fight another day. Until another voice bellowed across the bloody battlefield, from where the Humvees were parked, "Don't do it. I'm a medic. Look, red crosses."

  * * *

  Abdul ben-Aziz was a Syrian ISIS recruit, who’d traveled to Afghanistan to join the fight against the infidels. He glanced at the man in the distance who’d shouted. He was holding up a canvas pack marked with a red cross, and he wore an armband with a similar marking. It meant he was a medic, and he recalled the new order from ISIS Central Command. Men like this were saving the lives of the enemies of Islam so they could live to fight again. It was intolerable, and the new order was to make them priority targets. Until now, the priority had been to kill combatants. No more. The men with the red crosses would be the first to die, like this one. He’d send him to hell.

  He saw the American machine gunner open fire, and several bullets slammed into him. He felt a terrible pain tear through his body, and his body hit the ground. He didn’t hear the man shout again.

  “Remember, you don’t kill medics.”

  The reason he didn’t hear was because he was dead. But gravity took over, and his body continued to fall, directly over the detonator.

  * * *

  The explosion was a massive roar of smoke and flame. Weaver felt his body picked up and tossed into the air, and he was still conscious when he started to tumble back to earth. He was going to live, and he knew he’d done the right thing with the medical pack and armband. The guy they called Padre was a nobody. Not a Master Sergeant like him, Weaver was a man who deserved to live.

  At first he didn’t see the metal strut, part of the vehicle wreckage that littered the ground after the explosion. It stuck up like a spear pointing toward the heavens. When his eyes finally focused, he saw it, and he also saw the explosion had caused a metal arm to attach itself crossways to the stake. As he fell, he wondered why it looked so familiar. It dawned on him then, the shape resembled a crucifix. It was his final thought as the point speared into his belly. It pushed all the way through his body to impale him, and he writhed in terrible agony for several seconds before his mind went blank, and he was dead.

  * * *

  It was all over, and Sergeant Jones walked slowly back, the vehicles a heap of wreckage following the massive explosion. He glanced at the body of Master Sergeant Weaver on impaled on the metal spike. He touched the transmit button on his headset, “This is Sergeant Jones, C Charlie.”

  “This is Captain Rogers. Go ahead.”

  “Captain, we took the position. They’re all dead, but we lost our vehicles to an IED. We need transport and a medevac for the casualties.”

  “What about the missile shooters? Did you get them all?”

  “Yessir, all of them.”

  “What about casualties?”

  “We’re still counting, but we lost some, killed.”

  A pause. “What about Sergeant Weaver? He hasn’t reported in.”

  “He’s dead, Sir. I’m standing over his body right now.”

  “How did he die, was it during the battle?”

  “It was kind of strange, Sir. He got it into his head he was a medic.”

  “A medic? That’s a dangerous occupation. You know they’ve started targeting medics, a change of tactics, apparently. He must have been a brave man.”

  Dan paused, remembering Weaver calling out for the insurgent to spare his life because he was a medic. “I guess so.”

  “Master Sergeant Weaver was carrying a copy of the latest intel report. Find it and bring it back. Don’t let that information fall into enemy hands. We don’t want them to know how much we’re aware of what they’re up to.”

  “Yessir. What about the body?”

  “We’re sending a unit to recover the casualties. They’ll deal with it.”

  He searched the body and soon found a book in the bottom of Weaver’s pack. A Bible, with a deep gouge where it had stopped the bullet intended for Padre. He found something else, a single sheet of paper. A map marked with the message, ‘suspect IEDs on route A01, advise combat engineers. Post warning to all local units.’

 

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